So Let's Set the World on Fire
by Black Rose Heart
Summary: Arthur's loved him for more than a year now, and after being dragged to the school dance, amid the flashing lights and loud music, he meets an unpleasant surprise. Will he ever be able to tell him? USUK, slight doses of other pairings, including SuFin, LietPol, GerIta, and Franada, Gakuen AU.
1. 1: Tonight

A/N: I'm giving the old "write what you know" approach a trial run…All of the songs belong to their rightful owners, as does anything I mention that seems famous…

I DON'T OWN HETALIA! I ADMIT IT!...but I bet you already knew that XD Enjoy!

* * *

Arthur groaned as he listened to the morning announcements. It appeared that another frivolous, unnecessary, idiotic, and moronic event was going to take place in Hetalia High.

The spring dance.

Normally, he would never go, but lately he and his friend Yao had been prompted by their friends to attend. That's how the great Arthur Kirkland, student body representative, found himself donning a green collared shirt and a pair of black dress pants as he attended the dance. He groaned again when he got there, not just because he was about to join the mindless mass of students, but because Alfred was there.

Alfred was the object of years of unrequited love.

Sure, he and Arthur seemed like friends at school, always arguing about something, be it quantum physics or new video games, but the secret desire in Arthur's heart had never gone away. He could only assume Alfred didn't know because of the way he acted and his usual obliviousness to all things romance.

He'd have to say it started in junior year, when he had a locker over the fellow. They would chat, debate and hold side conversations by their twin storage places, and it didn't hurt that they had five classes together. In Spanish, they also tended to be partners, but only because the teacher always acted like a matchmaker. Arthur would humph and claim he would rather be partners with someone else, but inside he was always happy when they had classwork together.

And then senior year came, and amid all the hubbub of college applications, he'd had no classes with the American, forget lockers together. They'd been split up by colleges too, while Alfred had gone to an incredibly nerdy campus and Arthur chose a more philosophical one.

Back to the dance. He and Alfred, along with Matthew, Tino, Yao, Berwald, Francis, and a few other friends, strode into the empty hallways of the school, having paid admission. Alfred was chatting nonstop about how great one band was over another, while Arthur just looked on and sighed. The gym was set up with a DJ and lights. As the music, deafening and unpleasant came one, the American smiled and left to go make a request. Arthur stood awkwardly with his group, shouting conversation over the lyrics. It was irritatingly loud and annoying at this dance, and Arthur was reminded of why he usually didn't attend these.

Alfred came back, shouting something Arthur couldn't quite make out. Behind him, Francis shot a look at Arthur, then pointed to Alfred and raised his eyebrows. The Brit turned red, which was all the conformation the Frenchman needed. Chuckling with a _hohonhon_, Francis rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

The gym was fairly dark because most of the lights had been turned off, so one could clearly see the multicolored lights as they swirled around the walls. The DJ up front had a pair of headphones around his neck, typing away at a laptop as some horrible pop music came on and some of the freshman and sophomore girls started dancing.

The floor was not nearly as full as it usually was, because most did not attend the spring dance. Girls with colorful and attractive dresses clumped together and started dancing in a circle, only for one to duck into the middle and imitate them. Boys were mostly showing off in whatever way they could, dancing by themselves and pulling over a crowd.

The entire group left to go and get concessions, which were directly outside the gym. Sodas of all different kinds were lined up in neat rows on the table, while cookies dominated another. Alfred immediately grabbed a Mountain Dew, while Arthur went for a Coke.

"So Artie, aren't you glad I dragged you to this dance?" Alfred asked, and Arthur just scowled.

"For your information, it was Tino who dragged me here, and don't call me Artie!" Really, Arthur rather liked the nickname, but he couldn't let him know that.

"Whatevs. Hey, Feliks, did you hear about the new album that Cake released?" The scatterbrained Alfred dropped the subject and started talking about music.

Francis came up to Arthur, scaring him out of his wits when he heard the accented voice in his ear. "So, _mon ami, _you like him, no?"

Arthur's face tinted pink. "Of course I don't, frog! Sod off!"

"Ah, I see." He chuckled, "But I'll try to make some of _l'amour _happen, yes?"

"I told you, you bloody wanker, get away from me!" Arthur pushed Francis away, his face still red.

A song came on that Alfred apparently liked. Rushing back in, he dragged half the group with him while the others tried to finish their sodas and join him. _Dancing is never as funny when Alfred is doing it. _Arthur thought, watching the American dance in all his idiotic, beautiful glory. His blond curl that stubbornly stuck straight up bobbed as he performed some ridiculous move, and his blue eyes twinkled as if he knew he was just joking.

A few more loud songs came on, a few which Arthur got pulled into a circle of his friends who were just spinning around in a group. It was hardly a dance, but Arthur had to admit it was fun. Arthur broke away from the dance later, telling Yao he needed to use the restroom.

"Oh, I do too, aru. I'll come with aru." Yao said, his verbal tic ending all of his sentences.

"All right." Waving at the group, he and Yao left. Once they had started walking back down the halls, they stopped for drinks and talked as they finished them.

"So, the new stories that you're writing are going to be up soon, aru?" Yao questioned. He was a member of the Creative Writing center at their school and Arthur was submitting a piece. Or, trying to at least. He'd had writer's block, and Yao seemed to reject everything he wrote, pointing out a thousand mistakes.

"Yes, I just can't really find inspiration for my next one." Arthur sighed and took another sip of sugary soda. He winced at the severe sweetness, wishing they had tea.

"Well, aru, perhaps I can help you with that aru." Yao said, thinking.

"I thought you were tutoring Kiku during free period."

Yao turned red. "The ignorant boy cannot learn, aru! I've finished my tutoring job."

Arthur realized he must have stepped on a landmine. "Well, of course, sorry Yao." Pointing to the open gymnasium doors he said, "Do you think we should go back in?"

A slow song was playing when the two got back. Spotting their friends, they walked over. Most were horribly lip syncing the song, obviously joking and making fun of it, but they traded stories about funny dances they had seen.

"Yeah, so like totally this one kid was with his, like, girlfriends or date or whatever, and they were like totally dancing like this." He did what looked like a zombie walk, both arms in front of him straight out, then burst out laughing. "It was totally like super funny, guys!"

Arthur glanced over, where Alfred was talking to two girls. He recognized them as Ivan's sisters, one he saw he remembered being named Natalia. Her sister seemed to be pushing her towards Alfred, then she said something to him. As he watched, Alfred put his hands on her waist as they began to slow dance together. Something in Arthur's heart broke and it was all he could do to control his face and keep it in a mask. Alfred glanced over, smiling at his friends as they cheered him on. Arthur turned to Yao. "I need a drink. Want to join me?" Yao nodded, and the two left, Alfred dancing with Natalia behind them.

Standing in a place where no one inside the gym could see them, leaning against the brown walls of the hall, Arthur scowled. This was normal behavior for him, but it barely expressed the rage, hurt and loss that he was feeling right then. Oddly, it felt almost cushioned, as if he hadn't accepted that it had happened yet. He must be in denial.

Yao cleared his throat. "Ah, we'd better go back in, aru. I think Francis is looking for you."

Arthur looked down into his cup. "Yes, I guess you're right." Dropping the unfinished drink into the trashcan, the Brit walked back in, desperately trying not to look at the dancing couple. He remembered back when they both were helping with the school play. Alfred had been a jester, which suited him all too well, while Arthur had merely been the head of props. One day, while Jolly the Jester was getting his makeup on, Tino, who was in costumes, asked Alfred who his girlfriends was. Alfred had laughed, then said,

"_I have tons of hypothetical partners."_

_Tino looked curious. "Like who, Arthur?" Arthur, who had been listening in while he was sewing together a handkerchief, perked up imperceptibly._

"_Yeah, sure." Alfred said._

_Arthur wanted to hear that again. "What was that, Alfred? Something about me being a partner?" Acting like he hadn't heard it, Arthur wanted a direct answer._

"_Oh, we were just joking, I said that you're my hypothetical boyfriend. But anyone can be hypothetical." Alfred laughed, clearly just joking around. Arthur's heart sank, although on the outside he agreed with Alfred and went back to sewing a prop together._

Arthur relived this memory, just as Natalia and Alfred broke apart. Acting like a gentleman, he took her hand and bowed, then returned to the clump of people.

Arthur, trying to subtly ask what was going on, gave a quizzical eyebrow raise to the American. Alfred just smiled and said, "She asked me for a dance, so I said yes."

Arthur glanced over Natalia, whose sister was talking to her animatedly. _Well, my goose is cooked, I suppose. She's tall, pretty, and he probably likes her more. Would he dance if I asked him for a slow dance, I wonder? No, I wouldn't be that bold…_

A song came on and everyone screamed happily. Arthur held his ears, not recognizing the music. All the others looked interested in it. Leaning over to Tino, he asked, "What song is this?"

Tino looked back. "It's that Fun. song, We are Young." Oh. That one. It had been on the radio a lot recently, so Arthur knew the famous chorus.

_Tonight,  
__We are young  
__So let's set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter  
Than the sun..._

He watched Alfred lip-sync it, laughing slightly at the funny expressions on his face. Yao commented. "You know, this song is all about carrying drunk people home."

"Huh."

Everyone was jumping up and down so that the crowd looked like a mosh pit. Arthur felt like this should be some sort of message, a metaphor, something, but maybe he was just tired. Watching the bits of light color the crowd in a rainbow of flickering brightness, he held onto his façade and jumped in.

Arthur slipped out again after the song. The deafening noise damaged eardrums if one didn't step out once in a while. Most other seniors did too. Not but a few minutes later, Francis rushed out and grabbed Arthur's arm, dragging him back into the gym.

"Bloody hell, let go of me frog!" Arthur dug in his heels and tried to remain out of the gymnasium.

"_Non, mon ami, _Alfred was just looking for you." Arthur paused, giving the Frenchman time to pull him a few more feet.

"All right, but hands off, twit." Arthur pulled away and walked purposefully into the gym, his face not betraying the anticipation he had. Or so he liked to think.

Alfred was babbling on endlessly about something again, which gave time to Arthur so that he could join the small group crowded around the American.

Arthur tapped him on the shoulder. "Francis said something about…."

Alfred stopped. "Oh, yeah, he wanted me to ask you if you were my theoretical partner." Alfred leaned in closer. Francis snickered and ran away, back out of the gym.

_Does he mean hypothetical, or real, or….I don't know what to say, I….._

There was nothing left to him. He had to utterly destroy the moment.

"Wait, hold one, you?"

Yeah."

"Ask me?"

"Yes."

"Theoretical?"

"Yep."

"Not hypothetical?"

"Aha. I think you already have a guess. Yeah."

"No, don't know." Arthur turned away casually enough, but his face felt hot. He had just pulverized the moment, but he wished he hadn't. He didn't want to confess there, not then.

Walking out back into the hallway, he wanted to wring the frog's neck. He had asked Alfred to ask him….what in the bloody hell was he playing at?

"So what happened?" Francis asked excitedly, running up to the Brit.

"I had to kill the moment!" Arthur spat, anger in all the features of his face.

Francis pouted. "But why, _mon ami_?"

"Because…well…you know why!" Arthur turned red and then left to go get another drink.

Tino interjected. "Well, he's already his hypothetical boyfriend, and now Al has a theoretical girlfriend. That's all."

Francis looked confused. "I thought they were both hypothetical…"

Arthur hit Francis on the shoulder. "No, bloody frog, I'm hypothetical while Natalia is theoretical."

They managed to form a conga line in the next song, which made everyone laugh and join in. Arthur was delighted, and the ever-energetic Alfred was leading it, cheerful as ever. The lights spun and danced with them, throwing colors on the walls.

Another familiar song came on and Arthur wrinkled his nose. It was the Macarena, of course. One of Alfred's favorites. And of course, he was roped into it. Sticking out his arms and flipping over his hands, he felt like an idiot, but an included one since everyone else was doing it. Laughing, joking, and all looking completely ridiculous. How anyone discovered this and thought it was a good idea was beyond Arthur.

Arthur had a question for the dear oblivious American. He wandered over.

"So, what is your idea of a difference between hypothetical and theoretical?" Honestly, he had an idea that they were skewed a bit from the original definitions.

"Well, a theory is something that's likely to happen and has evidence behind it," Alfred started, which Arthur knew was incorrect, the boy had never been bright when it came to definitions, "and a hypothesis is something random that will never happen."

_How can you say that so heartlessly? _Arthur thought, but trusted his year of experience to hide it from his face. "All right." He wanted to act like his heart wasn't smashed to shreds by that, so he hid his emotion behind a mask of features and went back to chatting with Yao, which at least made him feel a bit better.

_Just thinking, but a hypothesis is an educated guess based on research, and a theory is a suggestion for the way something may have come about that someone thinks. But the real definitions don't matter. It's what Alfred thinks. Could he really…_Arthur pictured Alfred and Natalia sitting side by side, holding hands, eating together, laughing…and felt a horrible envy and rage bubble up inside him. He hoped he was keeping his features in check.

The DJ called over the PA, "All right, freshman and sophomore out!" Half of the crowd groaned and left under the watchful eyes of parent chaperones. Arthur smiled. He wasn't getting kicked out this year.

A tune came out of the amplifiers and Arthur recognized it immediately. "I'm Yours", surprisingly fitting. Should he ask for a slow dance, laugh it off as a joke from a "hypothetical boyfriend"? No, he couldn't do that, it was beyond him to keep himself in control with anything else.

Alfred, like the goofball he was, seemed to be playing an air-ukulele in time with the song. Everyone else was singing and pantomiming, holding their hands to their hands in a heart shape, then gesturing out when the singer belted out the chorus.

_It can not wait  
__I'm yours_

While Alfred wasn't looking, Arthur gestured at him, knowing the ignorant American never caught it. The rest of the song went by quickly and ended, leading the DJ to make another announcement.

"All right, juniors, outta here!" Some of the remaining group left, mumbling something about "when _I'm _a senior…".

The DJ held the microphone to his mouth again. "Now, we have a special hit for you all tonight…Let me put it on!"

As soon as the first beats echoed through the gym, everyone cheered. It was "I'm Sexy and I Know It." Arthur groaned, he hated this song. Alfred didn't, and was dancing, rather well, actually, along with Francis in the middle of the floor. Feliks was attempting to, but failed miserably. Yao and Arthur just stepped back and watched.

On the way home, in his carpool, Arthur still talked with Tino and Berwald, (they had gotten ice cream, which had elevated the mood a bit, but inside, Arthur was promising himself that he could break down at home later.

The car pulled up at Arthur's brick house, bordered by nicely-trimmed rose bushes. Arthur thanked Tino's mother, who had driven them, and went inside. Finally, he let his façade fall way and collapsed to the floor, reliving the moment when he saw Natalia in Alfred's arms, feeling the pain over and over. It wouldn't stop, the endless thoughts and doubts, of regrets and sorrow, tearing a hole in his heart and letting all his light emotions of the night slip out, leaving the inevitable, ceaseless pain.

Dragging himself to the leather couch, he wanted to cry. But, he reminded himself, he was strong, He hadn't broken in the year that he was around Alfred all the time and he certainly wouldn't stop now. Imagine if Alfred wanted to go out with her, then they broke up. He could help Alfred; get him back on his feet. Arthur imagined his friend's face if he ever confessed, would he immediately refuse? What would happen?

Half an hour of self-induced despair later, Arthur breathed deeply. Getting out his computer, he decided to continue the poem Yao had bugged him about. He had an inspiration now.

Slowly, but deliberately, the keys clicked to form words on the screen:

_I guess I knew this when I accepted loving you_

_That I would always have to hide it, lurk in the shadows._

_I may be a hypothesis, but they can be proven with enough evidence behind them,_

_Be it a theory, hypothesis, law, I'll be waiting._

_Everything is finite, nothing can last forever._

_You'll have to know one day_

_And when you do_

_I hope it will be me._

_You've left me hanging here for so long_

_I've waited and waited, in pain and melancholy,_

_But I'll wait forever._

_The pains are hardly there anymore, it's a permanent hole_

_Every time I'm around you it fills up a little but drains just as quickly_

_But I'll wait_

_I knew it when I chose this._

_I knew it then and I know it now_

_That I'd never fess up, explain myself._

_That I'd never be able to muster that courage_

_But it never stopped me._

_I'd confess now_

_But I don't want to be hurt, or hurt you._

_I claim I'm an artist yet I can't destroy the simplest thing_

_It would take three words_

_But I don't know if I could say them_

_This mask I wear to the world,_

_I've always hoped that you could see through it_

_But to you it seems to be the thickest of all_

_I've always hoped_

_I've always dreamed_

_I've always imagined_

_And look where that got me._

_But I'll wait_

_And hope_

_And dream_

_And imagine_

_No matter what._

_I've come too far to give up_

_Or maybe I'm just too stubborn_

_Maybe I can't back down_

_Maybe it's just me._

_But I love you._

_So please realize that._

_I'll wait forever_

_So please know that._

Arthur finished, shutting the lid of his laptop with a deep, hurt sigh. Curling up on the couch, he felt the events replay as a blur inside his mind, sharpening the pain. All through it, he had wanted to day something to the oblivious American.

Even a hypothesis can be proven if there's enough evidence.

* * *

A/N: *flails* I know my poetry sucks, but it gets the message across. FORGIVE MY INCOMPETENCE! I based this off of my actual spring dance, cause I thought some stuff going on would be fun in a USUK. I wrote the poem myself right after the dance, I got really depressed like Arthur so I put it to use! I had some examples from real experiences that I used, and I thought they just added depth, but I really have no clue if they did or not XD Yeah, this is kind of me trying to turn my life into a USUK. Which would be amazing! 8D Upcoming chapters as soon as my life updates.

Note to tsuruui: Yes, Yao, it IS about carrying drunk people home XD


	2. 2: We are young

A/N: Thanks to all who read~! I'm absolutely forever delighted by all the readers of FFNet. I cooked this up because it's what actually happened the next day…kinda creepy how it even works in a USUK, if it does at all XD Review and tell me if they're too OOC, because I used a whole bunch of examples and stories. I know, slightly smart!America (but still oblivious), but I just figured he should be a little smarter if he made it to high school…and I've always imagined him as a computer/internet nerd on the side…Enjoy!

* * *

A piercing, repetitive beep awoke a tired Brit in the morning. Even though it was the weekend, he didn't have luxury of sleeping in for too long because he never seemed to be able to wake up later than 9:00. It wasn't as if he'd gotten any sleep last night, because whenever he began to drift off, thoughts of Alfred would wake him up and set his heart racing.

Slamming a heavy hand down on the snooze button, Arthur groggily opened his eyes, revealing half-lidded green irises, dulled from lack of rest. He rubbed his temples as he sat up, trying to fight his residual feelings from the other night.

Alfred had danced with a girl.

She was pretty, smart, female for one, something Arthur could never be, tall, another thing Arthur could never be, probably in love with him and maybe he felt the same. The teen could almost feel his heart breaking, it had begun to feel like a huge, heavy and cold rock in his chest, like all the feelings were being sucked out of him.

It wasn't as if he'd ever even had a shot, he reasoned, it was clear that he was forever labeled as a friend. But, still, he couldn't give up the slightest hope. Sometimes it felt like all he had left. So he wouldn't stop being a friend, not for anything, because….it was better than nothing.

Pushing aside his depression and angst, Arthur followed the famous British motto, "Keep Calm and Carry On", by going downstairs and making himself a pot of tea. The rest of his family wouldn't be up yet, so he could spend a bit of time alone. Sipping the hot beverage from a china cup, Arthur sighed deeply, still thinking about the last night. Suddenly, a thought hit him and he ran to the calendar. Seeing the date, he groaned.

It was the day of the cast and crew party.

The play had one every year after a production, or so he was told by Tino, who was a seasoned veteran of backstage. All the members were there. Alfred was cast, and, unfortunately, Arthur was crew, so he would go.

He wasn't going for Alfred.

Most of his reasoning lay in the fact that he had a carpool again, which meant he couldn't really get out of going. Also, his mother, long worried about Arthur's introvert tendencies, encouraged him to go have fun with friends as much as possible, so she wouldn't accept his refusal. Being the proper English mother she was, she'd certainly know if he was lying about being sick or not, so that was out too.

So, at five minutes past five, Arthur found himself in another loud, bustling setting filled with kids from his high school. This time though, it was at the local ice rink, which had a small arcade and laser tag area, making it the favored hangout of many teens. It reminded Arthur of an abandoned warehouse that someone must have used as a game corner.

And of course, Alfred was there.

"Artie! Tino! Berwald! Hey, over here guys!" The American youth was waving at them from a shooting arcade game, where it declared that Player 2 had killed 103 robots at the moment. Arthur rolled his eyes and went over.

"Bloody hell, are all these games rubbish?" Arthur grumbled, watching Alfred launch a grenade at an advancing fleet of enemies. It seemed like all they had here were cheap wastes of money.

"Aw, c'mon Artie, they're not all that bad. Hey, just so you know, us seniors are going in the second session of laser tag, so don't get the cards they're handing out for the first one. You know how it works, right?" Another plane of robots descended on the scattered troops.

Arthur scowled, "I'm going to put my bag down, does the play have a table?" Alfred waved his hand, shooing the Brit out of his elbow range.

"Yeah, it's in the back. The sponsors are giving out tokens!" Players 1 and 2 groaned as the screen demanded they insert 4 tokens to continue, but slapped each other high fives.

"Bloody git…" Arthur sat his stuff down at the table, among the other multicolored purses brought by all the girls of the play. He grabbed a cup of tokens and left to go spend them.

After about and hour of being reminded why he hated cheating, token-eating machines and watching his friends play, Arthur got a card from the sponsor which entitles him to the 6:00 laser tag.

The entire senior part of the play production seemed to be near the row of computers used to register. They were crowding around the small screens, thinking of the best codenames.

"So, Arth'r, T'no and I 'r makin' 'n all'ance, y' want t' j'in?" Berwald said, even though it took Arthur a few minutes to piece together what the intimidating Swede said.

"Oh, yes, but…er…" Arthur looked a little sheepish, "I don't suppose they tell you how to play, do they?"

"Y've n'ver play'd?" Berwald raised his eyebrows.

"Well, no, but I suppose it can't be all that hard, can it?"

Tino looked at Arthur and sighed. "I don't think you can cut it with us. Sorry."

Alfreed, unfortunately, overheard part of the conversation. "Artie, you don't know how to play?" Arthur huffed.

"No, I don't, and stop calling me Artie!"

"Well, the hero will protect you! Never fear!" Alfred paused for a second, "Unless we're on opposite teams…then you're on your own!"

"Your undying loyalty just amazes me, Alfred." Arthur replied sarcastically.

A computer freed up. Arthur looked over at Vasch for guidance. He seemed like the remaining sane one. "So, what do I do now?"

Vasch glanced over. "Swipe the card, fill out the form." There was one person Arthur didn't want on the other team…

Arthur did that, and a screen popped up. Filling out the required fields, he came to the codename. He typed in his usual default, Black Rose. Roses were the national flower of his home country, after all.

Once his friends finished with theirs, they all went into the briefing room. It was a little crowded, but everyone was admiring the fluorescent paint on the walls as they noticed the effect of the black-light on their clothes.

Arthur looked down at himself sighing as he realized his light gray shirt was going to be a bit more visible than he had hoped. Most of the others were fairly dark though except…

Alfred looked down at his own white band t-shirt and light shorts. He shrugged. "We're all going to be wearing vests with flashing lights anyways, so it's not that bad."

A short video played, which Arthur thought incorporated far too many sound effects and dramatic transitions. The staff member came in, rather cheerful for working in this place.

"All right, y'all saw the video?" Some nodded, a few said "yes". "Well, all right, I'm gonna take you to the vest room, so get ready to put it on, if your phaser's not hanging out the front then you put it on backwards…"

He opened the door to the next room, allowing the seniors of Hetalia high to see pegs with the laser tag equipment on them. Most looked surprised, but others just looked ready.

"All right, now I'm going to call out your codename and the number of your vest! One! The Hero!" It didn't take Arthur many guesses to know who that was. The familiar blonde grabbed a vest from the rack and put it on expertly.

"Two! Santa Claus!" Tino laughed, "That's me!" and went up to a bright 2 peg.

"Three!..." And so it went down the list, until… "Sixteen, Black Rose!" "Seventeen, …Sp'n?"

Arthur and Berwald went over to get their vests from the opposite wall. Arthur sighed. As long as the teams were divided up by wall, which he thought was highly likely, he should be fine. Of course, Alfred, shooting prodigy extraordinaire was on the other side…

"Okay, numbers one through twelve is the blue team!" Half of the roomed cheered. "And thirteen through twenty four is the red team!" More cheers. "So, let's go to the playing area!"

A flurry of blue and red lights came on as the vests activated, making Arthur feel like one of Alfred's ridiculous Christmas trees. He was still a little confused on how to play, and had initially put the vest on backwards, as he had expected he would. Physical activities like these were really more of Alfred and Berwald's thing, not exactly a gentleman's fancy.

After gathering at the recharge station and squinting in the poor light to make out his team's faces, he recognized Ludwig and Mathias, which meant he would have less to worry about. Discussing strategies, it was quickly decided that Arthur would play defense.

A booming, automated voice commanded the players to begin round one. Everyone scattered, and little laser points flickered on the walls and towers of the course. Occasionally, flashing red and blue lights glimmered past as players ran and shot.

Arthur held his phaser like the video had showed, experimentally squeezing the buttons on the side. He was standing by the right gate, pacing by the area and looking for anyone to hit while the voice on the loudspeaker proclaimed that his team was ahead. Suddenly, an electronic sound went off again and again, followed by the announcement "Red Team, your base is being attacked! Defend your base, Red Team!" Arthur looked around, finally spotting a gleeful American shooting the gate. Arthur shot him repeatedly without hesitation, after all, it was just a game. He how agreed with Alfred's tastes, shooting others was fun. Occasionally.

There had been some other shooting from an upper level, but they were quickly sniped by Berwald, standing on the ramp across from them. Arthur looked over, giving a thumbs-up to signal his thanks. The Swedish sharpshooter just nodded briefly and went back to staring down the enemy, probably preventing a few strikes just from the ferocity of his gaze alone.

Unluckily for Arthur, Alfred ended up leading most of the suicide missions, dashing up and shooting the gate. He was usually taken down, but if Arthur ran out of ammo he could end up scoring relatively high.

By the end of the third round, the Red team had won two out of the three matches and everyone was sweating heavily. Seniors took their laser tag seriously. Leaving the playing field, compliments and curses went out to those on the other teams, blending together into a friendly atmosphere. Arthur, of course, found his mind drifting to a particular American.

Sometimes, he wondered how he became so in love with someone he'd known for barely a year and a half. Then he thought about Alfred, his huge smile that would appear whenever he laughed, the obnoxious manner in which he said everything, the fact that even though he was so athletic he never seemed to lose weight, the way he looked when the light caught his bright blue eyes…It was more than clear to himself that he really was head over heels for him.

They'd played a few more rigged arcade games before leaving, exchanged their handfuls of tickets for extremely small packs of candy, and left. As Arthur turned to go, he wanted to say goodbye to Alfred, but the taller blonde had left earlier. Arthur sighed, half disappointment, half relief. After Friday, it seemed like he'd never be able to look at Alfred the same way. But apparently, he'd put up a wall between his feelings and his act, making him act the same as he always had, even though inside he felt like he was slowly being torn apart.

Driving home, Tino and Berwald were talking quietly while Arthur stared out the window, watching the roads and medians pass by. As always, he found himself thinking about Alfred again. They'd had such fun as friends, arguing over trivial things, working on projects together, flipping each other's locks when the other wasn't looking. This year, Alfred had given him his combination after crookedly obtaining the Brit's, but Arthur was always afraid of getting caught by the homeroom teacher, so he rarely used it. He knew so much, from his birthday (July 4th) to his address. What made him such an impossible choice in this treacherous, deceitful game of love?

He slammed the door shut on the car, getting out of the vehicle and walking up the path, passing the blooming rose bushes and taking the steps two at a time. He had to admit, it'd been a nice party, but, strangely, he couldn't really feel happy. Sure, he smiled and highlighted the trip for his family at the dinner table, but they didn't make him feel uplifted at all. He felt he same, as if the stone just sat in his heart, weighing it down and making it impossible for him to enjoy anything without Alfred.

Dragging himself up to his isolated room and locking the door with a safe _click_, Arthur sprawled out on the exposed carpet of the floor. Staring up at the white ceiling, he tried to think clearly. Sure, he _thought_ he loved Alfred, but could it just be some sort of stage? Even if it had lasted for more than a year and pained Arthur beyond words? What if it all was in his head, it seemed like the most likely answer, based on everything that had happened. Alfred didn't know, or did he? If he did, why was he hurting him so much? Maybe it was his way of saying he wasn't interested? He should take that hint. If it was real. Was it?

Groaning from the tumultuous thoughts confusing him in all different directions, Arthur came to the same conclusion he always did. He'd wait. There wasn't a day he didn't think about ending this, one way or another, but would he hurt Alfred if he stopped? If he left? If he gave up? Staying at this standstill, not moving one way or another, it was the best thing to do. Even if it left him with a never-ending heartache, one that always lay deep in his chest.

A standstill is where nothing happens in a battle, both armies are equally matched. Arthur sighed. It wasn't a standstill. He was the one being hurt. Almost immediately, he scolded himself. It wasn't as if Alfred had asked for an unrequited lover. It was him. He was doing this to himself. Or was he? Nothing made sense anymore.

He realized his heart was racing now, wincing as he thought more about it. Calming himself down, Arthur took a deep breath, closing his emerald eyes, and tried to think about other things. London, magical creatures, fairies….Gradually, his pulse slowed. He was worrying over nothing. It was all in his head. Obviously. Nothing more than teenage hormones, he tried rationalizing. Attempting to distract himself, he pulled open a textbook and started working on notes.

If only that could solve his problems.

* * *

A/N: Wow, Arthur, poor kid. I'm putting him through a lot. Hope y'all understood the Sweden speak okay. Oh well, I am god of this storyline, so….feel free to R&R, I love getting reviews. Personally, I think this one's a bit slow and tired, so hopefully next chapter I'll find something interesting to put in. See ya! Cookies to **alguien22792 **for reviewing!


	3. 3: So let's set

A/N: asdfghjkl thanks for waiting! I found a good event to base this around recently, so here you are! Loved all the reviews, thanks so much to everyone :) I almost fainted from disbelief when I saw the huge number of alerts this was getting! (Huge being relative, I think it's actually like 8 or so but I'm still incredibly happy to the point of fainting when I look at my inbox^-^)

* * *

A thin, bright ray of sunlight disobediently leaked out of the curtain and fell across the face of a certain blonde Englishman. Cracking open a tired eye, he waited until his gaze cleared and defined the number on a digital clock display.

8:45. Too bloody early to be up on a Saturday when you're an emotionally distressed teenager. He was about to turn over and go back to sleep when the plans for the day hit. It was his school's annual Spring Fundraiser, when Hetalia High reached into its budget in the attempt to scrounge up more money. Most of the clubs put together a booth and sold something, while other amusements and concessions were rented by the school.

In order to receive some extra credit, Arthur had agreed to help with the art department's table, managing sales and helping with a printmaking display. Yawning as he got up and stretched his stiff limbs, he was beginning to doubt whether it was worthwhile or not to go. Berwald was in the band, which meant he had to go for a performance, and Tino was helping out with art too, so his carpool would pick him up around 9:00 to get there for set-up.

Groaning, he lifted himself off the bed and stumbled over to his closet. He picked a casual green t-shirt off the rack along with a pair of blue jeans. Tugging them on, he mentally planned out breakfast. A quick cup of tea, some buttered toast, and whatever else he could eat quickly. Moving on to the bathroom, he quickly ran a comb through his disorderly mop, but abandoned the attempt due to the naturally disheveled nature of his hair. Splashing some water on his face and drying it with a towel, he looked up in the mirror, his bright emerald eyes meeting their reflection.

_Eyes are windows into the soul. _All he could see was depression. Great tip. It made him feel loads better, obviously. Shaking his head, he attempted to rally in the stray blonde mass atop his head into a somewhat normal form.

_Fssssshh…. _The sizzle of bacon as it hit the pan released a nice, savory smell throughout the Kirkland's kitchen. Arthur noticed this as he was walking down the stairs, assuming the cook in question must be his mother, who had undoubtedly been woken up earlier by Peter. There was a conspicuous lack of cooking talent in his family, save for his mum, so she was usually stuck with preparing meals for everyone. It wasn't that they didn't try, but after a few of Arthur's early attempts at cooking, his poor mother had decided she wanted to keep her kitchen in one piece and encouraged him to leave food preparation to her.

"Good morning, mum." Arthur said as he poured himself a cup of tea and grabbing some cereal and milk. She replied, "Good morning, Arthur." before fully concentrating on flipping pancakes in another pan.

Peter was already at the table, stirring his rainbow cereal turn the milk a different color. Arthur just sighed, focusing on eating quickly enough to make it out by the time Berwald arrived. It was lucky that at least one of them had gotten their license; otherwise they would have driven their parents mad with constant commuting.

The doorbell rang, echoing through the house, signaling Arthur to get up, quickly bus his plate, and grab his wallet, which he did. Saying a brief goodbye, he opened the door and walked up the driveway, where the Swede was calmly seated behind the wheel, as stoic as ever, and Tino waved from the shotgun seat.

Grabbing the door of the silver car, he popped open the door and sat down in the back, while the Finnish boy jabbered on about the fundraiser. "…so art this year's working with face-painting, you knew that right? Oh, of course, you're helping with that too you're on the sign-up sheet, I saw, and doesn't the color for band look funny?" He pointed to Berwald's shirt, which was a light shade of gray as he tried to catch his breath.

Arthur buckled up in the back as the driver put the car in reverse and backed out of the Kirkland residence. "Well, a bit strange, I suppose. Do you know who else will be there to help?"

Tino thought for a second. "Well, Feliciano's helping out with art, of course, so's Yao. Elizabeta should be coming later, and I know Alfred's getting there early because he's carpooling with Kiku."

Arthur flickered imperceptibly when he said the American's name. "Thanks, Tino." He reclined a little, remembering the last year's Spring Fundraiser. He'd been at the face-paint booth, haning a rather good time painting white unicorns on little girl's cheeks. Alfred had lamented about the paint he had last gotten, so Arthur had offered to do one for him. Of course, the ever-stubborn American refused, and it had turned into a bet. That year, they'd chased each other around with paintbrushes and had a great time. Too bad it had to be different this year.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans. Flipping it open, he read the new message:

_Alfred F. Jones_

_RE: Sweet!_

_hey dude ur going 2 spring fundraser right? c u there!_

_gonna paint me 4 free this year?_

_-The HERO!_

Arthur rolled his eyes at Alfred's signature, spelling mistakes and grammar. It was amazing how blind some people could be. He texted back:

_RE: Sweet!_

_Yes, I'm going and I'll promise to do it for free as long as you pay._

_You do realise I have to sell art too?_

He hadn't waited but a minute when his cell buzzed again:

_RE. Sweet!_

_aw artie. yeah but the bet hasnt finished has it XDDD better make it the FSM! and FREE!_

_-The HERO!_

Arthur groaned internally. While exploring forms of atheism (on Wikipedia during study hall, of course), Alfred had run across Pastafarianism, which was a rather strange one in Arthur's opinion. The energetic American had made him search it once, and showed him the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or FSM for short. It even had a mock religious fish symbol resembling His Noodly Appendages, as Alfred put it.

Honestly, Arthur sighed, thinking to himself, it was almost impossible to deal with that boy, but he could be the most interesting person he knew sometimes.

_RE: Sweet!_

_I'll do the simplified one. But you'll still have to pay. I believe the price is two tickets._

He snapped the phone shut with a satisfying click, before receiving a reply before he could sit back. Not that he could. His vision was focused on the dark screen of the phone, meaning he almost dived for it each time it rang.

_RE: Sweet!_

_Whatevs. u there artie!_

_-The HERO!_

Arthur chose not to reply, mostly because that seemed like a closing statement. Maybe he was overthinking things a touch too much. God knows he did that enough when it came to Alfred. One day, he had wondered how much of his day was wasted thinking of the ever-so-blind American and he had wondered if he even went two hours without being reminded of him in some way. Like a constant shadow, he was always driving his train of thought.

As he watched the houses pass the car by, he realized he'd been completely spaced out thinking about that despicably wonderful Alfred. Sighing, he watched the school zone sign through the window as they pulled into the student parking lot. The fairgrounds were generally just tables, a few games, half-way inflated bounce houses, plus a few miscellaneous people running around and supervising.

The school looked the same as it always had, red brick walls with sandy stone portions, a square, geometric build with windows coming in at close, regular intervals in the walls. Noticing the art table, he and Tino decided to help out. An anxious art teacher directed them to the storeroom, which contained most of the wares they would be selling.

The locker-lined hallways gave way to a rather cheerful Italian pushing a cart of clay pots. His amber eyes lit up when he saw the extra help.

"Oh, hey guys~!" The boy chirped happily, "Go down to the closet and bring up the flower pots, okay?" He wheeled the cart part them whistling happily.

_Well, at least someone can be happy… _Arthur though with a touch of melancholy. The art room could only be described as if one took an entire artistic supply store and tipped it so everything in it fell into the large room, then organized it haphazardly in cans, jars and cabinets, hung a gigantic colorful mobile, tacked up myriads of pictures of famous art and artists, placed a bleached cow skull on top of a cabinet, and then thrown in a statue of Dobby wearing a small beige apron. Truly an unusual place.

It never failed to amaze Arthur that this room could be so creative. Today, however, he had more on his mind than paint and brushes. He picked up several colorful vases containing tissue paper flowers, carrying them as he walked the long hallway back to the front entrance.

The fundraiser was just getting started as Arthur helped carry everything from wire jewelry to a pair of doors out of the storage room. He was just putting price signs on the table when none other than the infamous American walked up.

"Hey Artie!" Arthur turned around to meet a highlighter orange t-shirt wearing a black fedora on its head. Undoubtedly him.

"Good morning, Alfred. And don't call me Artie." He sighed, faking annoyance while his pulse sped up. Alfred had the whiff of something fresh around him today, a minty aftershave or something…Arthur mentally slapped himself as the 5$ sign was taped down next to vases.

"Sure, _Artie, _see you later." Flipping his hat around as he left, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle as they-

_No, you stupid git, _he admonished himself, _don't think about that. _From the cry of "O sole mio!" from across the table, he assumed that Feliciano had found something wrong.

"How are we going to wash the linoleum blocks? Can anyone get water from the art room, ve~?" The Italian boy said, and Arthur volunteered. It would give him some time to think so he wouldn't be scowling at the customers.

* * *

Setup was finally complete around 10:00. Finally, a steady stream of visitors lined up to spend their money at the French club booth, manned by the rather flirtatious Francis Bonnefoy, the Ecology club's plant sale, or, of course, the art table.

Arthur was in the middle of making a sale until the oblivious American came by. Surveying the objects like a common patron, he pointed one out. "How much for the giraffe?" His smile had the hint of a secret joke, pointing to the yellow and brown statuette.

The Brit scowled. "You git, I don't suppose you learned your numbers. Three dollars." He pointed to the well-displayed sign marked 3$. Noticing the smile, he added, "I can tell there's a story behind it."

Alfred winked, making Arthur's heart skip a beat. "You bet. The other day, we were trying to convince Feliks that giraffes only had two legs, and when we did, he kept going around, 'Giraffes, like, totally have two legs! I'm not like crazy or anything'" He imitated the last bit in a mediocre Polish accent.

"Fine then. Oh no," Arthur winced as Alfred pulled out a ten dollar bill. He'd eat up most of their change. "Don't you have any smaller bills?"

The trademark smile flashed again. " 'Fraid not, it's all I got."

A long sigh. "It's all I have, not 'it's all I got', and thank you ever so much for taking all of our change." His voice was dripping with sarcasm by the end.

The American felt around in his pocket for something else, eventually emerging with a small white plastic bottle. It fit easily in his palm. "Want this too? I won it at a game. Don't have much use for it now, 'course. It's bubbles!"

A sigh. "I suppose I could take it. You grammar continues to be atrocious, Alfred."

Of course, the American either chose to ignore the statement or didn't sense it at all. " 'K Artie, thanks!" The money, small bubble-blowing prize and giraffe changed hands, leaving a smiling Alfred and a tsundere Arthur with the tsun turned on.

"Honestly, you and your jokes." Arthur said tiredly, rolling his eyes for the second time that day as Alfred met up with his Japanese friend and showed him his recently purchased item.

By the time the oblivious American came by again, Arthur had sold five more trinkets, helped a woman make a print and talked about the new companion on Doctor Who. Alfred was now joined by Kiku, Tino and Berwald when he came by, all of them laughing and joking, excepting, of course, the stoic Swede.

"Hey Artie, got any money to lend me? I don't have enough for ice cream, I spent it all on hamburgers!" Alfred clasped his hands in a mock pleading gesture.

"Alfred, I know you-", the American adopted a wobbly lip and huge, watery blue eyes, making it completely impossible to refuse, "Oh, all right but you have to pay me back. Or at least get me one too. Preferably chocolate."

Arthur almost instantly regretted it when Alfred's face broke out into a wide grin. "You've got a deal! I should keep the change though, you still owe me a crap ton of money!"

"Bollocks." The Brit huffed, but secretly he was delighted. Alfred ran off as quickly as he could to the ice cream stand, delighted at the prospect of another sugary treat. Arthur just sighed and knelt down to scour a carved block of all the ink stuck to its surface. A bittersweet smile edged at the corner of his mouth, just slightly thrilled that his secret crush was getting him ice cream. Flashing a glance over at the tray of colored paints, his smile grew a little happier.

Alfred returned with the largest chocolate ice cream cone Arthur had ever seen, and was carrying one of equal size for himself. It was coated with brown chocolate sprinkles and Arthur doubted he'd be able to finish it while he was working on the stand.

"Bloody hell, do you really think that I can finish all of this?" Arthur said, crossing his arms. Alfred was licking off the sprinkles in as suggestive a manner as he could manage, for the specific purpose of infuriating the Brit.

"Well, I could help ya. I won't say no to more ice cream! Come on, it's America! The dreams and ice cream are both supersized!" He grinned, revealing a brown-tinted smile.

Arthur took the cone, staring at a huge swirl of the dairy-based confection. He tasted a bit. It really wasn't that bad. Tino and Berwald were talking about a field trip they all had been on last year, much to the delight of Alfred who started laughing when they mentioned the rollercoaster they had managed to drag him on.

"Hey, Artie, remember that? You were screaming like a little girl, dude!"

Arthur scowled. "That's yourself you're remembering. And don't call me Artie."

"Aw, Artie…" The puppy dog face was going to make an appearance soon.

"Oh, sod off. Personally, I think it's a ridiculously unfair deal that all music students also go another amusement park. Art students work harder, I'll have you know." Arthur said, looking indignant.

"Well, we have to do a competition there, and plus, we have to wake up really early. Right, Berwald?" The Swede nodded, poker-faced.

"Yeah, well we do a ton too! It's really tough! All those journals, and critiques, weekly homework, semester projects…" Tino was counting on his fingers as he listed, eventually running out of fingers.

"Now," Arthur looked over at Alfred, "no excuses, you're getting your face painted."

Alfred groaned. "Okay, I said I would this year. And a hero always keeps his word."

The American sat down glumly in a metal fold-up chair. Arthur smirked. He could be such a child sometimes. Seating himself in and adjacent and identical chair, the Brit picked up a brush and made a few quick outline strokes. He was desperately trying not to blush as the paint touched his cheek, making a thin black line.

Noticing some stray hairs on Alfred's face, he wondered if he shaved yet. Perhaps he…focus Arthur, focus! The miniature representation was doing fairly well, and once the artist was finished, Alfred examined it in the mirror and gave a big thumbs up. Just like the oblivious, wonderful idiot he was.

"Know what it is, Tino?" Alfred said, ready to explain the parody religion the first chance he got. The Finnish boy's brow furrowed.

"No idea." And so the great lecture given by Missionary Alfred F. Jones began, making Arthur just roll his eyes.

Arthur was listening to the conversation, but he suddenly felt a raindrop on his hand. Looking over at the rest of the fairgrounds, it appeared that others had too.

"Tino! It's time to get the art stuff inside!" The Finnish boy had felt the rain too, leaving them both dashing for the water-colored postcards and printing paper. Almost the entire staff for the art table shared a kind of manic urgency to get the hydrophilic elements under to cover of the school's roof. Likewise, Berwald and Alfred dashed off to help get expensive band instruments to a dry safe haven.

It was a fury on at the fundraiser as crowds of people rushed into the building. Tables and chairs were left behind as they were abandoned for purses and twirls of cotton candy. Arthur was soaking wet from dashing back and forth for art supplies and sorely regretting his choice of not bringing an umbrella.

He had stayed and tallied up the results of the art sale, in total around eighty-five dollars, so barely a scratch on their debt. Handing off his accounting sheet and waving goodbye to some friends, he fingered for the bottle of bubbles that was still in his bag. He remembered the casual smile Alfred had flashed him when he had taken it, making a small light go off in his heart, causing an ache of pain.

The next five minutes found him standing under a tree, waiting for Tino to get Berwald so they all could get home, looking out at the rain falling down around him. He was from London, so the sheets of cold water barely bothered him. Sighing, he put his hands in his pockets in a feeble attempt to keep them warm. He felt the small container of bubbles and pulled it out to take a look.

Completely on impulse, he popped off the top and carefully blew a few transparent spheres out into the rain. He watched one dodge all the raindrops, drifting off into the distance. How it was possible, he didn't know. Inspiring, wasn't it?

"Arthur! Come on!" Tino said, waving at the Englishman through the deluge. Lost in his thought, he stumbled to his feet, running out to the car.

Once he got home, he shrugged off his wet jacket and dived to the corner where his laptop was. Pulling up his email, he saw a new message from Yao. It read:

_To: _

_From: _

_RE: Poem_

_Think you could get me one by tomorrow at 3?_

_-Yao_

Arthur sighed. Well, the one he had written previously had been deleted, so he'd just have to make another one….Typing, he wrote:

_Love is like blowing bubbles._

_You have to do everything just right, find the perfect day, make sure you aren't too forceful, and let a gentle breath make a perfect sphere._

_Watching it, it can either fall immediately or slowly decline before popping and missing the chance to test its luck._

_Some barely make it without just ending a few seconds after its made._

_More are swept away by winds and break under pressure._

_A few are caught back by the maker and kept back, for fear it might end the second it floats away._

_But some, those chosen by fate, chance, or sheer determination, fly away strong and free, off into the distance, shining and bright, like hope lit in the sky._

_Unrequited love is like blowing bubbles in the rain._

_You don't think you'll have a chance, after all, the raindrops threaten to pop any bubbles that get out there._

_You think it's safer to just keep your little bit of dish soap safe the storm lets up, but it may have dripped away by then._

_So, you think about how it will be if the rain stops and you can blow all the little bubbles you want and watch them get carried so high up by the wind into the huge blue sky._

_Forcing yourself back to reality, the real sky is gray and cloudy from where you stand and the cold is sapping all the warmth from you._

_Sighing, you finally blow a bubble and watch in wonder as it floats past all the raindrops, defying the wildest dreams in imagination._

_All you can hope watching it is that it goes a little further, just a bit more, before it pops._

That was okay. A little less depressing. Secretly, he harbored the hope that Alfred would read it and immediately run to him wherever he was in the school and proclaim his undying love for him. If Alfred happened to read the literary magazine. Which he didn't. Meaning the fantasy was even more unlikely than ever.

He attached it to his reply, then shut the computer with a satisfying click. If only that could keep him content.

* * *

A/N: As I shut _my _computer with a satisfying click as well :) Anyone like my (insert derogatory term here) poetry because I write it whenever I'm depressed. Don't even attempt to coach me on my poetry skills, they are eternally damned to suck forever! (Bad author, no cursing!) Ha, no, I just sold my poetry skills to the devil for decent writing skills, and I'm pretty sure he shorted me on those. And yes, for those wondering, the art room described is real, and it's packed with even more strange stuff than Dobby wering an apron.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pastafarianism (those who take any offense in such a religion being portrayed, review or PM and I'll fix it), Dobby, or anything other than this plotline.

Last chapter for I while, I wrote this on the bus. I have exams from hell coming up next few weeks, so writing is drastically slowed. Espresso (another one of my USUK AUs) is going to update probably end of this week, so I do try.

Reviews are rewarded with extreme happiness from the author, they make me update faster :)

LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS LONG *hides behind table to avoid rotten tomatoes*


	4. 4: The world on fire

A/N: I'm on a roll with this, so I think I'll stick with it.

* * *

The finicky temperatures of spring gradually ended in fair days where the warm April showers were forgotten. Now, they had May showers. Roughly three weeks had passed since the spring fundraiser, leaving Arthur to despair while going about his daily life.

Of course, none of this was on his mind as he opened locker 901, shuffled the books he needed for his next class into a messenger bag stamped with the Union Jack, picked up his heavy laptop case and walked down the congested hallways to the gymnasium with all the decorum of a senior.

As he pushed his way through the gym doors, he heard an unmistakably French-accented voice whisper something by his ear.

"Have you heard of our _américain_ friend, Arthur?" Francis said with his usually suave tone.

The Brit scowled and swatted in the Frenchman's general direction. "No, I don't suppose I have. Bugger off if you've nothing useful to say."

Then, Francis said the one thing that could have stopped Arthur cold. "I heard he asked out Yekaterina to the prom."

The English gentleman froze in his tracks, an unwise action when you're in the middle of a mob of people. Quickly moving off to the side, with an eager Francis ready to expose the story, he replied, "What?"

As he realized how deeply this affected Arthur, the look on Francis's face changed from smug satisfaction to one more similar to fear. Of course, he would normally rub this in the Brit's face, but the tone in his rival's voice told him he'd better spill otherwise the janitor would find his murdered and gruesomely tortured corpse in the biology classroom that night. "I just heard this morning. He asked her not long ago, though. Apparently, he seems rather enamored with her. She assumes they are just going to the dance as friends."

_Thank god. _Arthur let out a breath of relief, not that he would admit it was such. "Interesting. Enough gossip for now, you bloody frog." He tried to keep the strain out of his voice, but to no avail. Yekaterina was known around the school for her rather…unusual bust size, so it was possible Alfred could be asking her just to look good in front of his admirers.

He walked over to the boys' locker room before Francis could get another word in. What he needed was some time to think this over.

P.E finished slowly, and Arthur could have sworn the clock was moving backwards every five minutes. He finally left, climbing up the crowded stairwells to his locker. He couldn't wait for the day to be over. All that was left was last period.

Their science teacher, a man with a mostly-bald head and a white mustache that resembled a miniature white deck brush hanging over his upper lip, had assigned them practice EOC questions, which Arthur had finished before the period was even half over.

Even though it was strictly against school rules (which everyone ignored anyway) he logged into chat just to see who was on. Of course, none other than Alfred himself. He had a bone to pick with that boy.

Clicking on the icon next to _burgerlover_, he typed in an opening remark.

**Invinciblebrit: **Hello.

Within seconds, a reply came:

**burgerlover: **hey artie

**Invinciblebrit**: Don't call me Artie. I heard you have a date to prom.

Arthur held his breath waiting for a response. Thankfully, it wasn't long.

**burgerlover: **yep, yekaterina

**Invinciblebrit**: Dare I ask why?

**burgerlover: **not my choice. popularity stuff.

If this was a real conversation, Alfred would be pouting adorably at the moment. He let out a breath of relief. Let's hope he wasn't lying.

**Invinciblebrit**: Really?

**burgerlover**: yeah sucks to be captain of the football team sumtimes :'(

**Invinciblebrit**: I thought you'd ask Natalia

**burgerlover**: old news. plus shes NOT my type X(

**Invinciblebrit**: Her sister is?

The Braginski family, of which both Natalia, Yekaterina and their brother Ivan were a part of, were infamous around the school for their exceedingly unusual behavior, strange insistence for incest, and an overall ominous presence on the school grounds.

**burgerlover**: at least she doesn't scare the crap out of me O-O

**Invinciblebrit**: True

**burgerlover: **you going to prom 2?

What does he think?

**Invinciblebrit**: Maybe, and you should use better grammar.

**burgerlover:** Make me ;)

**Invinciblebrit**: Git

**burgerlover**: brit 8D

**Invinciblebrit**: ….

**burgerlover:**gtg teachers looking angry cu artie!

**burgerlover **has signed out of chat

Arthur rolled his eyes, shutting the chat window before his science teacher walked behind him and noticed how suspiciously unrelated the text on the screen was to plate tectonics. Maybe he was overthinking the entire ordeal.

Maybe not. It seemed that every single day Alfred wanted to make his life just that more difficult. Every time he started to relax, that American just found a way to bring some horrible reminder of the fact he could never have him back to the surface of his mind. Why?

It was getting ridiculous. Something was going to have to give, things couldn't be this antagonizing for an entire year. Could they? The endless, dark pain that wracked him day and night, a crack in his spirits, the death and rebirth of his joy that made life worth living.

The hole in his heart.

Alfred.

….

He really was overthinking this.

Looking up at the clock, he noticed the minute hand's close proximity to the numeral three, signaling him to start packing up. Sighing, he stuffed his agenda into the recesses of his bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

* * *

As usual, the turmoil on the bus ramp consisting of chatting crowds and energetic students was as boisterous as ever. Arthur edged his way past a group of giggling sophomore girls, spotting the black number 1954 proudly displayed on the tall broadside of a bright yellow public school transport vehicle. Also know by all students as the bus.

Climbing up the bus's steps, he navigated the thin aisle to sit in his usual seat in the back. Tino and Feliciano were in the seat behind him, laughing about something that had happened in last period. Arthur would normally tune this out, but something caught his ear.

"…So then, I said to Alfred 'No way you asked out Yekaterina!' then he said 'Yeah'-Oh hey Arthur!" Tino noticed the Brit in front of him. "Did you hear about Alfred and-"

"Yes, I did." Arthur said sighing exasperatedly, "It seems its all anyone will talk about with me today. Honestly."

Tino's eyes lit up. "Really? I guess it's because no one ever guessed it! And she's a Braginski, even, so…yeah!"

The small Italian boy nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. They're a scary family, but she is pretty! And I hear she already has a boyfriend anyways, but he doesn't go to this school, so she's going with Alfred instead!"

Arthur was intrigued. "Really?"

"Yeah, so even if she does go with Alfred it's going to be a temporary thing. Like back home in Italy!"

_A bit too much information, Feliciano. _Arthur thought. Well, if she already has a boyfriend… "I heard from Alfred it's all for some sort of popularity thing-"

Tino winced. "Oh yeah, Berwald told me about that. Alfred has this huge bet going with them that he can win all their bets, kind of stupid, I know-"

"-no, it's sounds exactly like that git. Steady on."

Tino laughed. "I guess it does. So this bet was who could bring the hottest date to the dance, and Alfred had to find someone. Like Gilbert, he asked Elizaveta last week as a last resort, and I heard he got hit with a frying pan!"

"He and Alfred must be related somehow." Arthur said, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"I wouldn't be surprised. That's the Alfred we all know." Tino said.

Arthur seemed satisfied by his own information gathering, settling into his seat on the tumultuous bus ride that seemed to be a metaphor for his love life.

* * *

A/N: Bit of my PruHun shipping (if you choose to see it that way), I support other Prussia pairings more now, but come on, I wrote a fic about their _wedding _so one can hardly blame me if a bit of an old obsession gets through.

I took a character quiz the other day and it said I was America…huh, well I guess it fits. It's where I live, after all. Now I find myself thinking WWAD or What Would Alfred/Arthur/America do, depending on what it is…XD I'll write a longer chapter next, it will probably be all about flashbacks.

LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS LONG AGAIN *dodges bullets*


	5. 5: We can burn brighter

A/N: Due to the utterly outrageous development of the relationships surrounding my life, I found some pretty good material to twist and contort into fan fiction! Yay!

* * *

Friday. A marvelous day of the week, usually including the release of school attendants from their designated educational facility in lieu of the weekend. And, of all designated education facilities, Hetalia Academy was no exception to this fact.

The excitement had set in by lunch, so every teen there was discussing weekend plans, updating schedules, sending emails and communicating in practically every latest form. Everyone except one boy with messy blonde hair and striking green eyes framed by even more striking eyebrows.

Arthur Kirkland was quietly eating his sandwich, observing the madness of the cafeteria, sitting across from one of the more sane people in the room, his Lithuanian friend Toris.

Toris sighed. "It seems that all anyone ever ends up talking about is the prom. Though really, some of the couples are interesting."

The Brit tried to act disinterested, by his heart had skipped a beat when his friend has mentioned _couples_. "Interesting in what way?"

A blonde haired boy named Feliks piped up, "Like, there's totally that scary guy Berwald and Tino, they're like totally an item. It's been like that for, like, months. Plus that kid who always wears that maple leaf sweater totally likes Francis. That's like a ton of the major obvious ones."

It was true that Arthur didn't want to seem like a gossiping teenage girl. But then again, "Really?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Toris looked like he was torn between trying to stop his Polish friend from saying anything further and running away, but in the end his chose neither, resulting in this sentence from his friend: "Yeah, and Toris and I are like totally a couple too!"

Firmly clamping his hand over his friend's mouth, Toris turned to Arthur with an embarrassed red tinting his face. "Sorry, but Feliks here doesn't know when to shut up. Really," he sighed exasperatedly, "he doesn't even hear himself sometimes."

The Brit just waved a dismissive hand, as if to signal he didn't really mind. "It's fine, Toris. I know someone who has a similar disability."

Toris smiled slyly while still keeping a firm hand on his talkative friend's mouth. "Alfred, I'm guessing? I heard he asked Yekaterina."

"I suppose it was for a bet. Apparently, they're going as friends, since she's not exactly single." Arthur shrugged his shoulders, trying to maintain a nonchalant manner while his eyes were cold and hard.

His Lithuanian friend didn't seem to notice the emotional baggage tied onto this statement. "Oh yes, while I was working on the yearbook staff with Feliks today, we found a picture of them sitting next to each other on a field trip. They seemed fairly happy, but it could have been the camera making them smile." An indignant Polish hand tapped his shoulder, then pointed at the hand still stoppering his speech. "Oh, sorry Feliks." Said hand was released, allowing a torrent of gossip to shoot up like a deluge of unstoppable water.

"Yeah, but like Alfred's like been totally playboy like cause he danced with Natalia and now he's like totally going to the dance with her sister so does he have like a thing for the Braginskis or something I like totally bet he's going to go after Ivan soon or something totally like that." After thirty seconds of unbelievably fast talking, Feliks took a deep breath, allowing the listeners to take in the incredibly concentrated news.

"Well, that was awfully informative." Arthur said, a bit shocked and not just from the speaking skills of the Polish boy.

"'Awfully' being the operative word here," said Toris, sighing just as he checked the clock and gasped, "I'm going to be late for class! It's on the other side of the school! Come on, Feliks!" He grabbed his surprised friend's arm, quickly busing his tray before leaving the cafeteria in a flash.

Arthur sighed. Forget love triangles, this was becoming a love pyramid. With his Alfred at the top. No, not his Alfred, just Alfred.

Just Alfred.

Always him.

* * *

After slogging his way through the rest of the school day, the last fifteen minutes of his last period had devolved into chaos once the assigned activity was completed by all students. HE had been chatting with Yao about the literary magazine when the Chinese teen seemed to have a revelation.

"Arthur, you haven't seen Feliciano or Ludwig today, have you, aru?" He inquired.

"Well, no. Why?"

A mischievous smile crept across his face. "They're going to prom together, aru."

"Feliciano and Ludwig? Well, I can only say its about time." Thank god, the stoic German had finally managed to ask out cheerful little Feliciano. Everyone had been painfully aware of it for a while now.

"Yes, I think Feliciano is telling everyone under the sun-aru." Yao rolled his eyes. "So immature-aru. Are you going to the dance?"

The Brit sighed. "Possibly. I suppose you are as well?"

A vein in Yao's forehead twitched slightly. "Yes, and before you ask, not with Kiku-aru! Whenever I tell someone, they assume we should be dating but that is not right-aru!"

Arthur nodded, he knew the feeling, it had been the same way with him and Alfred all throughout junior year. If only…no, that was a stupid idea, the American clearly had never reciprocated his feelings in any way whatsoever. They were just friends. "Indeed. People can make the wildest assumptions."

"Yes-aru." The bell trilled in every room of the school, signaling the end of the day and a mad Friday rush to get to a bus. Practically swept away as soon as they stepped into the hallway, Arthur was struck with the memory of when he and Alfred had lockers in the ridiculously cramped annex hallways, stuffed to the brim with rushing juniors trying to navigate through the standstill.

"_It's like Orchard Street in here! We saw pictures of it in US history and it looked exactly like this." The blue-eyed youth commented amid the chatter of the jam of students around their lockers. It was ironic that the taller one of them had the bottom locker, since it wasn't as if his British friend had a side career of a basketball player._

"_Something like that." He slung his packed bag over his shoulder as Alfred did the same and hit his head on the door of Arthur's locker, creating a rather out of place ringing as the metal door vibrated from the collision._

"_OW!" He rubbed his head at the point of impact, "You need to watch the door!" His face was screwed up into a comical expression of experiencing easily preventable and embarrassing pain. _

_Arthur smiled at his oblivious friend's outright idiotic action. "More like you need to watch it. What is that, the second time it's happened?"_

"_Third if you count that time the lock dropped on my head." The American smiled sheepishly, probing the spot for any other damage. _

"_You utter git. You don't change, do you?"_

Shaking the memory from his head, Arthur concentrated on descending the stairs, his last line echoing in his head…

"_You don't change, do you?"_

Sloughing off his bags in his usual seat in the back of the bus, he sat down before overhearing the joyful yell of his Finnish acquaintance, "He WHAT?"

Feliciano replied happily, "HE asked me to the dance! Wow, can you believe it? Ludwig! We went out to a movie and everything, but then he told me he liked me and asked me out to prom!"

Arthur found his face form a bittersweet smile. At least one person could find the guts to tell them how they felt.

The cheerful Italian didn't stop there. "Apparently he said he liked me for a while and I thought he might too and now I just can't stop smiling!"

Tino laughed. "Well, now most of us have a date, right? Berwald and I, you and Ludwig, Feliks and Toris, hah, all of us of the other persuasion."

'There is one thing though," Feliciano said with a hint of mischief, "Matthew needs to ask Francis!"

"Or maybe the other way around," Tino mused, "we'll have to get them together somehow… I'm sure that Elizaveta would help us."

"Absolutely!"

_Quite the matchmakers these two are…_Arthur thought, before remembering another incident from junior year…

"_Un examen! Necesitan una persona para hablar con!" __Arthur waited for his name to be called. The teacher seemed to be calling in a completely random fashion. He looked over at Alfred, sure that he would be glad not to have himself as a partner again._

"_Señor Jones y Señor Kirkland! Ven aquí para su examen." __Their Spanish teacher called, making the two look over at each other before proceeding to the teacher's desk and sitting down in the chairs that had been placed there for them._

_The teacher smiled at them when they sat down before speaking with in English with a thick Columbian accent. "I made sure to pair you two together because you have, a…__c__ó__mo se dice, los chemicales__?"_

_They looked over at each other, blue meeting green. Arthur laughed awkwardly, trying to conceal his shock. Seriously, even their teacher saw it. Alfred was incredibly blind. _

_The American looked at his speaking exam partner, smiling as if to confirm how ridiculous the statement was. But Arthur must have imagined it when he thought he saw a hopeful glint in those blue eyes, the slightest question, a maybe…No, he had just imagined it. There was no way he felt the same, no, it was better to not pretend, if only to stop him from falling any harder…_

Trying to shut off the painful memories, Arthur dug through his bag for his headphones, plugging them into his mp3 listening device engraved with the silhouette of an apple on the back so he could watch an episode of his favorite show, featuring a time traveling man and his blue phone booth. He listened to the main theme song, relaxing for the first time that day.

Just as the head of the blue space merchant who was entombed in a crypt almost revealed the oldest question in the universe, Arthur stopped it to get off the bus without missing his favorite part. He'd watched the episode many times, but something about the British production kept drawing him back. Unfortunately, even the sci-fi show wasn't free of ties to Alfred. They had discussed it so much it drove a stake of fresh longing into his heart when he thought about their lengthy emails and late night text messages…

Passing by the rosebushes, Arthur picked a petal off of one of the pink blossoms.

_He loves me._

Another petal fell to the ground.

_He loves me not._

Really, he was turning into a lovesick girl. _Well, _he thought as he rummaged around for his keys in his pack, _everyone deserves at least one romantic crisis. I guess this is mine. Bloody well that is._

Unlocking the door, he noticed a furry head butting against his shins. Leaning down to pet his Scottish fold cat, Arthur gave him a quick scratch before stepping inside and dropping his bags next to the door.

Running up the stairs to his room, he ran his hand along the worn wooden banister like the many times before. His computer was sitting in the corner of his room, a light on is sleepily blinking, displaying that it was on standby mode. The British teenager flipped open the top and opened up a new word document, deciding to start his history paper but lacking inspiration.

Completely out of impulse, his fingers typed eight words for him.

_Feliciano Beilschimdt_

_Tino Oxenstierna_

_Toris __Łukasiewicz_

_Matthew Bonnefoy_

He smiled, knowing his Chinese friend would slap him if he found out he wrote this.

_Yao Honda_

He took a look at the list and a deep breath before ending with the unspoken wish.

_Arthur Jones_

He held down the Control key before pressing the letter W. A dialog box popped up, asking whether he wanted to save changes to Untitled. He pondered his answer.

It was better to stop here, stop while it was just wishful thinking. Stop before he got hurt. Stop before he fell any harder. Stop before he was rejected. Every pain in his heart yelled out for him to give in, to confess. But it was a habit now, resisting this impulse, this hope.

Could they ever be together? Could he bring himself to try? The answer was the same every time. He clicked the option in the dialog box.

No.

* * *

A/N: (You can completely ignore this note, I just feel like a note should be made about how I get inspiration) When life changes, that is what it inspires you to write. When you find yourself wanting to get up and slap the sense into a certain person who you had five classes with last year and is incredibly ignorant, you sink into despair. Then you write more fan fiction!

Sorry. One moment while I mentally slap myself for venting like this.

On another note, my Espresso story (another USUK!) has hit a wall, as I desperately attempt to write a chapter full of extremely embarrassing stuff, but I'm trying my best! The sixth chapter will be good, I hope!

I can't write a short author's note to save my life. Oh well….maybe next time. Until then!

~Black Rose Heart~


	6. 6: Than the sun

A/N: Okay, last bit! Due to extremely emotional events, I wasn't able to update regularly, and I've decided on the ending! At last!

* * *

The next few weeks of school flew by in a flurry of testing and early acceptance letters. Hopes rose, fell, and spun around as the academic classes became more like chat rooms. The seniors, on the other hand, were getting ready for one of the most dramatic, heart-wrenchingly desperate and typically teenage events of the year.

June 8th. A rather ordinary day for most people. This year, it happened to be a Friday. But an event with even more prevalence than the anniversary of the Austro-Hungarian compromise was slowly approaching at Hetalia High.

Prom.

Unlike most academies, this certain one waited until the week before school ended to hold a prom, leaving the date panic sweeping the population of seniors. Rejection, admiration, and desperation filled the air, leaving no one invincible to the drama.

"All I'm saying is, why the bloody hell do we have to all have dates?" Arthur demanded to his tablemate, before taking another forkful of salad into his mouth.

Toris shook his head. "I don't know. Some sort of social thing." While he was talking, his hands effortlessly bridged a deck of cards. In the last weeks of school, the seniors this year had been famous for playing card games in groups.

"You don't seem so worried about finding a date. Have you found one yet?" Arthur said, watching as Toris passed the cards to Matthew to deal.

The Lithuanian youth blushed slightly. "Well, Feliks and I are going, and we're probably going to double-date with Tino and Berwald. So it's, sort of…not really an issue for me." He concluded, glancing over in his Polish friend's seat, which was awaiting the arrival of a Feliks carrying a tray of food.

The shy Canadian boy had finished dealing, flipping over the top cards for everyone to choose from. Yao, who was sitting next to Arthur, grabbed the cards with the ace of spades on top. "Mine, aru."

Arthur was next to pick. He surveyed the cards and chose the hand with a king of hearts. They were all practiced professionals at playing this games, which meant it would be fast-paced. He organized his cards in ascending order while everyone else grabbed their hand.

He'd played this games last year as well, even won against Alfred, who was notoriously competitive. The Brit shook his head. Don't think about him. Instead, he asked Toris for an ace.

Yao threw down three cards marked with "4". Arthur slammed his own four on top of the pile before any of the others could play. "Complete." he muttered, knowing the others were well aware before putting down a single seven. Matthew followed with a seven, skipping Toris who sighed, taking his hand off the eight he was going to play.

It was strange, how quickly a simple game could occupy your senses and block out other thoughts. Other, unwelcome, painful thoughts full of memories. The game continued, an island of concentration in a sea of chatter and conversation.

* * *

A tinny voice spoke as clearly as it could through the outdated PA system as Arthur returned to class. "Students going to gym, please meet in the auditorium."

An audible groan rose out of the scholars in attendance, for all of them knew that the dreaded laptops collections were nigh. School-issued computers were always taken back, but those completing summer school only had to get some software and certification updates, so Arthur would be keeping his. _As will Alfred, _he thought, before blocking it out again.

As soon as the bell rang, a throng of talking teenagers walked out of the classroom, filling the chaotic hallways. The clocks on the wall signaled that Arthur still had four minutes and thirty seconds to get to class, and the punctual Brit wasted none of it.

The auditorium was well lit, filled with rows of red seats in front of a stage currently filled with cardboard storage boxes. Melancholy students were relinquishing their computers for the summer, as tech assistants scanned anti-theft tags and crossed off names on a roster.

"You will come in quietly and sit down to receive your laptop form!" A teacher accustomed to shouting in the gym ordered, lowering the decibel count instantaneously.

A section was marked for summer class students, so Arthur sat down next to Matthew and Francis. Unwillingly in the case of the Frenchman, as the SCA president despised the frog. Strange, he thought, that the shy Matthew was sitting next to Francis, the resident playboy of the academy. Bloody frog.

As if he was telepathic, which Arthur dearly hoped he wasn't, Francis turned around to smirk at the incoming Englishman. "Oh, looks like someone failed a class, _oui_?"

Arthur replied in a cold tone. "Quite the opposite, Francis, I'm taking an extra course to meet a requirement."

"Me too." said the Canadian, smiling slightly. "I'm taking personal finance with Francis."

Arthur was about to ask why he seemed so happy about it when the bellowing voice of their gym teacher said, "This section, line up!" Sighing, everyone got up and filled the wing of the stage. As Arthur walked in, he remembered those long afternoons and even longer nights when he had passed through these corridors a dozen times and more, toting the princess's handkerchief or the jester's stuffed goose, _Alfred's _stuffed goose…. He wished the play hadn't finished.

The group ascended a short section of stairs, their slippery qualities reminding the former props manager of when he had fallen down them.

"So, _Mathieu, _what time am I picking you up?" Arthur caught that snippet of conversation and looked at the French teen.

"Are you attempting to seduce another target, Francis?" Arthur said scathingly. Honestly, having this frog as a vice president was a bad idea from the get-go. It was only his popularity that had garnered him the position.

"For once, _mon ami, _no." Francis smiled his don't-you-want-to-know-more-oh-hon-hon smile.

It was Matthew who jumped in, stopping the flow of British curses before they started. "Actually, I guess I was the one who asked him out, actually."

Arthur's train of thought ground to a halt. "What?"

Matthew blushed. "Actually, it's sort of embarrassing. My mom's idea, actually."

Francis continued, "He tied his proposal to a little plane and threw it at me. Quite endearing, no?"

The Canadian looked down at the floor. "Actually, I was so nervous I threw it at Gilbert, who gave it Francis."

"And after that, how could I say no?" Francis concluded triumphantly, then slyly looked at the Brit. "You don't have a date yet, do you, _Monsieur _Kirkland?"

Arthur scowled. "Like hell I would tell you. As it happens, I don't-"

"-Aha! I knew it!" Francis smiled victoriously.

"Shut up frog, as I was saying, I don't, so I'll just go to present fundraising awards. It is my duty as president, after all." The Brit finished pompously, giving Francis a pointed glare.

"Sounds about right, eh?" Matthew said, before leaving to get his laptop scanned in by the bored IT consultant. Just as he did, Francis leaned over and whispered in Arthur's ear.

"I do have someone I want to hook you up with, _mon ami_. A very specific _American_." This was all he managed to say before being roughly pushed away by an angry Brit.

"Sod off, frog, before I rip off that mop that you call hair and use it to clean the inside of a toilet bowl."

* * *

Hours later, Arthur was back home and finishing the double Windsor knot on his green-striped tie. Looking back at the messy blond head in the mirror, he tried passing the comb through it a few times to no avail. His suit was pristine, the one he had worn to his older brother Scotty's wedding last year that fortunately still fit. He sighed. Not as if he had a date to notice. And Alfred would be too enamored with his date to even think of-

No, he shouldn't think like that. It was just for popularity after all, maybe he just asked her so that he could go with someone. Maybe that was it. Yes, it had to be. Not even Alfred, no, especially not Alfred, would do this just to spite him…

Arthur was lost in thought as his eyes glanced to the plain face of his wall clock. The decorative iron hands pointed too close to the numeral six for his liking, prompting him to descend the stairs and get to his car. It felt empty without the usual company of cheerful Tino and solemn Berwald, but the two had decided to arrive together in the Swedish teen's car.

Fishing the keys out of his pocket, Arthur turned them in the ignition and gripped the wheel as the car started. Granted, he wasn't the worst driver at his school (that would be Feliciano, who failed the test several times and was yet to retake it again) but something about the dull roar of the engine made him remember the only thing from stopping a fatal crash was his motor vehicle knowledge…

Arthur put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Keep calm and carry on.

As expected, Arthur almost didn't spot the small, narrow parking spot next to the red pickup truck sporting a patriotic American flag on the shiny bumper. _Alfred's truck… _he realized, before blocking out all thoughts of him and proceeding to the entrance of the school.

It was almost dusk, and the last bits of afternoon lit the light concrete front of the academy well enough, allowing the Brit to spot a few of his friends. And Alfred.

"Hey Arthur!" Yao said, running up in a rather nice black suit. His long hair was tied back in the typical ponytail.

"Oh, hello Yao." Arthur said, greeting his Chinese friend. "Looks like another teenage hormonal mess just waiting to happen, doesn't it?" He gestured to the large crowd of girls on the verge of a happiness spasm.

"Of course. It seems to happen every year, aru." Yao huffed like the mature older man he seemed to be sometimes. "Kiku seemed like he would never shut up about it. He's so… annoying, aru!"

_Annoying, of course. It's obvious you are a bit fond of him. _Arthur thought, then realized how ridiculously hypocritical it was of him. "Yes, indeed." His phone played the UK's national anthem as he received a text message. "One second."

Tino's picture pulled up alongside text that read:

_Inside the school. C u soon :)_

The emoticon was just like his cheerful Finnish friend. He snapped the phone closed, taking a modicum of satisfaction from the sharp sound. "Tino and Berwald are already inside. Are you going to join us?" His gaze drifted over to Alfred, whose wheat-blond hair, tossed by the slight breeze, and his steel-framed glasses framed those sky-blue eyes-

Yao nodded. "Sure. Oh, wait." He stopped, waving to Feliks and Toris who had just arrived. Was that Feliks wearing a…dress?

Sure enough, the legless clothing was most certainly worn by their Polish friend. Said Polish friend was running towards them with an unintentionally feminine gait, while his date just rolled his eyes, an expression saying _What am I going to do with you? _worn clearly on his face.

"Hey guys! Like, isn't this totally the coolest thing, like, ever?" Feliks gushed, while Toris arrived behind him, panting from trying to keep up with the energetic cross dresser.

Arthur gulped. "Um, yes, Feliks, but why are you wearing-"

"This?" He picked up the hem as if he were about to curtsy. "It's just something I had like in the closet. Since I'll like never see you all again, I like totally though this would be memorable."

Toris coughed. "Well, come on Feliks, we've held them up long enough." He pulled his boyfriend by the wrist towards the dance, before he started explaining the origins of his garment.

Yao turned to Arthur. "I have to admit, I was not expecting that, aru." He looked over at the crowded entrance. "Looks like time. Ready President, aru?"

The Englishman took a deep breath. "Sure."

* * *

Madness. That was the only word Arthur could have used to describe it. Crying, hugging, kissing teens clogging the halls like spinning tops of emotion, but Arthur just rolled his eyes. Sure, he was emotional that school was ending, but not to that point.

"Aloha Hetalia!" A parent volunteer held out a colorful ring out to him. "Want a lei?"

He just nodded and took it, briefly hesitating before putting the silly thing around his neck like everyone else. As soon as Yao got his, he took it off and chucked it into the nearest trashcan. "Cheap party junk, aru."

"I'm now regretting agreeing to the theme of this dance," Arthur said, looking around with a disapproving glare at the feeble attempts at mimicking a tropical beach, " 'Aloha Hetalia'. What was I thinking?"

The Chinese teen shrugged. "At least it didn't cost too much, aru. Vash almost had a seizure when we told him we needed more money for decorations, aru."

Arthur nodded. It sounded exactly like their Swiss treasurer. "Well, I'd better find Francis so we can go over the order of the announcements during the dance. Bloody frog probably forgot everything."

"See you later."

"Bye." Arthur looked over at the mass of students, already planning how to shove his way through the crowd. _First, he would shoulder past the brunette in the pink dress, apologize before shoving Francis away from his date, yank the frog out of the crowd, then-_

"Hey, Arthur!" An upbeat voice made itself heard over the cacophony and Tino was suddenly standing right next to Arthur, followed closely by a stoic Berwald.

"Oh, hello Tino, I didn't see you there." Arthur said, still a bit distracted.

"Well, I just spotted you and ran over here! So, what do you think?" The Finnish boy motioned towards the mess of dresses, suits, corsages and drama in front of them. "Crazy, huh?"

"Indeed. I hope they open the gym soon, otherwise there may be a stampede." It seemed all too likely, even if he was partially joking when he said it.

Luckily, the setup committee has assembled some tables and chairs for the purpose of seating groups of talkative teens, a purpose served quite well when Tino, Berwald, Arthur and Yao sat down amid the chaos. Arthur watched as the other three chatted, a few more people sitting at their table to converse. Feliciano, Ludwig, Feliks, Toris, Francis, Matthew, Gilbert…many youths joined but there was one that Arthur couldn't seem to find-

There. Right there in the crowd, talking and laughing with his friends, was Alfred. His suit really was nice, black with brass buttons, the collar decorated with a plaid bowtie. A plaid bowtie. Somehow, he pulled it off.

The American sat down at the table next to Arthur. "Hey Artie, Tino, Berwald, guys!" He greeted them, smiling his million-dollar smile. The sight would make even the meanest scrooge start jumping down the halls singing Christmas carols. As it was, Arthur felt himself revert to the old junior days.

"Don't call me that ridiculous nickname, you git." He said, scowling.

"Aw, really?" Alfred pouted, or at least pretended to, just as the gym doors opened, signaling the official start of the dance. Hysterical high-schoolers poured through the threshold, into the roaring pit of music that only hours earlier had hosted a P.E class. Arthur winced at the thought.

Everyone stood up, ending the discussion on the principal's supposed possession of a toupee prematurely. Alfred pumped his fist into the air, "All right! Let's go to prom!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, despite his secret inner chuckle, "They must spell obvious with an Alfred now." His wonderful Alfred. Not that it would ever be his Alfred. No…not ever. Arthur felt his hopes sink as they all went into the gym, scolding himself for allowing such dreams to rise in the first place.

* * *

A/N: Okay, one more chapter. Then an epilogue. Then I'm done Yes. I am. *dies*

Sorry, I got writer's block and kind of blanked on updating. I will though, and maybe add to some of my other stories. Summer time, so I'll have hours to spare.

Oh, by the way, the card game they were playing is known around my school as Capitalism, but you might recognize it under a different name. It is the official card game of my learning institution in that mysterious place that I reside and will not tell you over the internet.

Time for the satisfying ending next chapter!

OR IS IT? MWAHAHAHAHAHA to be continued ;)

~Black Rose Heart~


	7. 7: Tonight

A/N: Had a lovely day at a well-known amusement park with my group so I'm feeling ready to write! Any song lyrics belong to their rightful owners, and as sure as Spotsylvania exists (it does, look it up), I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Arthur had to admit, they hadn't done as bad a job decorating as he had expected. At least the walls had some tropical scenery and a few snack tables covered with unhealthy delights were set up off to the side, away from the forming mosh pit of flailing bodies. The vibration of the music rebounded off the painted brick walls of the gym, creating an effect that slowly deafened anyone in attendance.

Meaning, of course, Alfred loved it and Arthur hated it.

He and Francis had tried to discuss the announcements, but the flirtatious Frenchman kept glancing over at Matthew, making it impossible to talk about anything, much less over the loud and annoying rap song, yet another reason why the Americans shouldn't be left to their own devices when it came to music.

As the Brit glanced over, it seemed Alfred was trying to talk with Kiku about something that sounded like a lot of miscellaneous directions and "B A start" but he stopped as his eyes widened and recognition of the song dawned in his mind, setting his limbs into a dancing fury and sending him into the center of the mosh pit with his golden circle of popular friends. Not that the British youth minded, no, it was just what he happened to notice.

Arthur looked over at Francis and Matthew, talking over near the door; Toris and Feliks, attracting strange glances from some of the seniors as the Polish boy practically flaunted his unique hobby in their faces, and listened to the ridiculous music with disdain.

Colored lights flashed across the walls, whirling just as quickly as the teens on the dance floor into new, random patterns. Swishing patterns of dresses and teenage despair and joy collided on the newly waxed floors. It almost made one forget the basketball hoops overhead.

A song came on, and Arthur groaned as he recognized it. This one was a favorite of the entire school; with instructions in the lyrics so that anyone could master it easily. Unfortunately, this did not apply to British student council presidents with two left feet. Sure, he knew the basics, but…

Lines formed on the dance floor as students took four steps to the right, then four to the left, followed by kicking feet and turning around. No embarrassment if everyone's doing it, yes?

Quite the contrary. Arthur sat down on the hard plastic seat of the bleachers next to Yao, who seemed to have a similar feeling of disinterest towards the scene. The Chinese boy had propped his forearm up on his knee, using it to support his head as the dancers moved in a rough approximation of unison.

"Idiotic, isn't it?" Arthur said loudly, trying to be heard over the music. Yao turned to Arthur, nodded, and sat upright.

"It seems like its school tradition to be a moron at prom, aru." Yao glared over at a target in the crowd, "Just look at Kiku! Ridiculous, aru…" The Japanese boy was being pulled along into a circle of girls, standing there awkwardly while they spun around him.

"You're awfully hard on him, don't you think?" Arthur commented, while simultaneously surveying the crowd for a certain American with lively blue eyes, steel-framed glasses and light blond hair.

"Like you are with Alfred, aru?" Yao questioned, waiting for the reaction.

Arthur sputtered. "W-What? No, it's just that he's the most idiotic git I've ever met, oblivious and scatter-brained and the like."

"Of course, aru." The Chinese boy said, shaking his head. It really couldn't get much more obvious. It was a cruel, cruel fate that Arthur didn't deserve. No one deserved such a thing, for that matter…

Suddenly, the beats of an irritating song rang throughout the gym, causing half the population to groan and leave in protest. Such teen pop music was the bane of their existences, echoing but unmistakable.

Arthur could have sworn the voice was a girl's, but recognized the song gone viral. He joined the rush of seniors which ran out of the gym as quickly as possible in an attempt to save their sanity and eardrums. He didn't leave just because Alfred did. No, he left because Yao did, and Tino, and Toris, and Alfred was just another friend, yes, that was it.

* * *

It didn't take long for the famous Alfred F. Jones to zero in on the table filled with pizza slices and cups of soda. While he did, their extended group of friends and couples sat down at a circular table covered with a green plastic tablecloth. A pail filled with sand sat on top of it, a decorative lawn flamingo stuck down into it, desperately trying to hold on to a theme.

"So, I was like totally going to recommend a song to the DJ, but he like, looked at me like I was, like, nuts, so I didn't, but did any of you guys request like, anything?" Feliks asked.

Yao swirled the ice in his drink. "I doubt he would have anything I like, aru."

"S'me h're." Berwald said, though as always his words bordered on the incoherent.

Tino looked thoughtful, "I bet he would have some ABBA if I asked-"

"T'no, y' kn'w the r'le…" If it was possible, the glare on the Swede's face grew even more intimidating.

"I do." Tino sighed, then moved over to provide a space for the incoming American who was struggling to handle all of the plates of unhealthy food.

"Thanks, T-man." Alfred said once he finally managed to relocate the haul to the table's surface before unceremoniously stuffing his face with the overabundance of edible goods. No one was even going to ask.

"Well, I'm not really into ABBA, but I wouldn't mind if they decided to play some good alt rock instead of rap for a change." Toris said, picking the conversation back up.

As the others jumped at Tori's proposal and started giving song recommendations, a rather disoriented German grabbed the chair next to Arthur before almost collapsing to the floor in despair. His pale, almost white hair blocked his face as he hung his head low. The general feeling he gave off was one of someone who had picked the winning lottery numbers but thrown away the ticket.

"Gilbert, _mon cher_, what-" Francis started, but the teen just waved a hand, signaling that he would explain as soon as he dredged himself up from the depths of self-pity.

After a while, he said, "Francis, man, apparently I'm only capable of setting up everyone but myself." He gestured at the table, pointing to the Frenchman and his shy date, the Lithuanian and the cross-dresser, as well as the stoic Swede and his cheerful boyfriend. "I set every single one of you guys up, and what have I got to show for it? Nothing, 'cause no one's awesome enough to match me."

"Oh, is that why you haven't got a date, Gilbert?" Arthur said in a sarcastic tone, a bit more resentful than he would like to admit. It was easy enough for him to say, the boy was one that seemed like he'd never be tied down, not held up by any ridiculously unrequited love.

"It has to be, 'cause my awesomeness is so epically overwhelming it must have intimidated all of them." The amount of hot air being released was enough to power a balloon around the world a couple of times.

Meanwhile, Alfred had managed to finish the insane amount of food and was getting up from the table. It was just that Arthur happened to notice this, it wasn't like he'd been watching him out of the corner of his eye the entire time…

"Oh crap, did you guys hear that? It's a slow song!" The American said, looking around the hall before looked resignedly into the gym, "I have to find Yekaterina! BRB, guys!"

As he watched Alfred get up, he just sighed tiredly, slumping down over the table, mindless of his posture. Kiku sighed as well, apparently he had a grasp on the situation.

Arthur rolled his eyes, half mumbling to himself. "He really is blind, isn't he?"

Kiku nodded. "I am afraid so. I asked him about it once and he does not seem to know anything. I aporogize, Arthur-san."

Tino agreed. "It's so sad, isn't it?" Next to him, Berwald nodded.

_Is this my bloody support group? _Arthur wondered, slumping over that table more after taking a sip of his Fanta.

Kiku gave Arthur a serious look. "You have to terr him, Arthur-san."

"No, no, I'm fine, I get it, everyone gets their happy ending except me. I waited too long." Arthur mumbled, distraught. The Japanese teen got up suddenly.

"Give me two minutes." He disappeared into the gym. The Brit's heart jumped.

"What is he…" Arthur just shook his head. If he was going tell Alfred, there was nothing he could do about it.

Matthew patted the despairing Englishman. "I hate to sound so pushy, but you can't keep this a secret forever."

"It's hardly a secret. Everyone here seems to know."

"Know what?" Gilbert said, looking over with a puzzled expression.

"Okay, I take it back. Everyone but Gilbert here seems to know it." Arthur rolled his eyes, sighed, and turned to the Canadian boy, figuring that some sane conversation would help him block out the thoughts-

Kiku emerged from the gym with a rather confused Alfred in tow. It was then that Arthur's heart nearly stopped, and it was all he could do to stop himself from running away.

Arthur steeled himself before he sternly said, "Kiku, take him back."

Then, everyone at the table tried to persuade Arthur otherwise, pleaded with him, while Alfred just looked on, completely at a loss for the situation he had stumbled into. It couldn't have been more obvious, but Alfred looked lost, confused.

Tino leaned over to whisper in Arthur's ear, "Come on, go ahead and say it!" Similar cries arose from across the table.

"No." Arthur kept repeating this until he just shook his head and gestured for Alfred to go back, which the confused American did. If he could remain utterly clueless after that, it would be a miracle. Then again, it was Alfred…

"Come on, you have to tell him to some time." Francis said urgently.

"No, I…"

And so it went, back and forth, failed defenses and ever more convincing arguments until the combination of resolve, threats and sugar high accompanied by some frighteningly effective measures to try to literally pull Arthur out of his chair culminated in one act.

The Brit stood up and reluctantly said, "Fine. Take me to him."

An explosion of applause and cheers mingled with encouragement rang out. Arthur briefly wondered why his heart wasn't beating so quickly. Was he so tired of this he'd decided to finally break it, or was it that the shock hadn't hit him yet? Some of both, he concluded.

Kiku stood up with him, a slight smile on his face, and silently led him as he stepped over the threshold into the darkened, pulsing gymnasium.

* * *

The lights had been turned off, but the roaming colored ones had been left on, for that nightclub feel, he supposed. A few inflatable beach balls floated up in the air, hit by a member of the mosh pit each time it dared descend low enough.

There, slow-dancing in a way that broke his heart, was Alfred, almost in the middle of the crowd, looking relatively content with Yekaterina. Before he could turn around, go back out, leave, they noticed him, and the Braginski girl backed off smiling, as if to say "he's all yours" before disappearing off to the side of the crowd.

Arthur was trying not to look at Alfred's face, afraid of what he might find, confusion, disbelief, or rejection. When he finally did, he saw…almost acceptance, at least it was welcoming. Maybe he wasn't going to be turned down. Maybe…

He went up to Alfred, who offered out a hand. It was a tentative gesture, but Arthur took it. As he did, he felt a hand rest on his waist as he placed one of his own on the American's shoulder. Their height difference left Arthur feeling a bit uncomfortable, but the heat rushing to his face took his mind off it.

"So," Alfred raised an eyebrow, "I guess the credits can roll now."

"Yes, they can, you idiot." Arthur said, resisting the urge to punch the American's shoulder. "A YEAR. One bloody year and you never knew."

"I had a clue, kinda…" Alfred said, trying to defend himself and failing miserably.

"Oh yes, one clue after everyone else figured it out." Arthur started rattling off some names, before Alfred eventually had something to say.

"So, what do we do now?" He looked a little embarrassed. "Y'know, let things be, or...what?"

"No, I've waited to bloody long to just 'let things be' you git."

Alfred blinked in astonishment. "Are you…asking me out then?"

Oh. Oh, this was what he'd been dreading. The ultimatum. Before even stopping to consider the consequences and ignoring the nagging doubt in his head, he replied.

"Yes."

"Well, then I guess I'll say yes too." Alfred smiled, and Arthur felt his own face mirror the wide grin. It seemed that a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders as they danced around the gymnasium floor, the Englishman and the American, finally as they should be. The music drifted over the crowd and Arthur almost laughed at the irony. Instead, he looked up at Alfred, who was finally, absolutely his.

_Tonight,_

_We are young._

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter _

_Than the sun_

_Tonight._

* * *

A/N: Like the ending? Had to trim down my own dance because it was too long. But both Arthur and I (fortunately!) got the same result! I was about to write this as a tragic ending, but everything turned around (I bet USUK shippers everywhere prayed for me XD) and you've got a lovely, if seemingly unrealistic ending (it happened, I assure you)

Finland and ABBA rule is due to George deValier's Catch Perfect, and for those who haven't read his fics, then I HIGHLY(we're talking astronomically infinitively high) recommend them. Lyrics are from We Are Young by Fun. If you're wondering what the miscellaneous directions and "B A start" was that Alfred was discussing with Kiku earlier, I was trying to describe the Konami code, a famous cheat code.

All in all, epilogue of a trip to an amusement park is liable to get here in a week or two, with a few embellishments on what actually happened.

LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE IS SIZE OF SMALL ONESHOT XD REVIEWS ARE WRITING FUEL!

And_ now _the credits can roll… :)

~Black Rose Heart~


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